


Flashes of Love

by redundant_angel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anathema Device Ships Aziraphale/Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), Bickering, Crack, Crowley and Aziraphale are SO married, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Jasmine Cottage (Good Omens), Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Matchmaker Anathema Device, Mildly Dubious Consent, No beta we fall like Crowley, Quite Extraordinary Amounts of Bickering, Voodoo doll, Witchcraft, bickerflirting, except they aren't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redundant_angel/pseuds/redundant_angel
Summary: Sometimes love just needs a little push.------Aziraphale swallowed, then reached for Crowley’s hand.“Crowley and I have decided to, er…. oh, dear… how shall I put this?”“We’re fucking,” said Crowley.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 149
Collections: Holly Jolly July: a Good Omens Gift Exchange





	Flashes of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waterofthemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterofthemoon/gifts).



> I may have just written 3k words of nothing but Crowley and Aziraphale bickering. Enjoy!

Aziraphale yelped as the Bentley careened around another sharp bend in the road. He and Crowley had been driving through the backroads of Oxfordshire at such excessive speeds that the angel figured they should have been in the ditch ten times over. Although he was rather used to the demon’s erratic driving by now, it didn’t stop Aziraphale from gripping the door frame for dear life.

“Crowley, is it really necessary for you to drive ninety miles an hour down these winding roads?”

The demon shrugged but did not lift his foot from the pedal. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.”

“That’s not how these social events work, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale sucked in a breath as they came within a needle’s width of smashing into a lorry which came barreling around the corner. “Anathema and Newt have been kind enough to invite us to their home for dinner, and it would be rude if we didn’t stay for at least a couple of hours.”

“Hours?” Crowley groaned. “This is ridiculous. You're the one who's friends with them, not me. I don’t even know why I’m doing this.”

“Because we were _both_ invited.” Aziraphale pursed his lips. “And besides... the pleasure of your company would please me immeasurably.”

Crowley fell silent then and Aziraphale tried not to look overly smug. When it came to persuading Crowley, Aziraphale had long mastered the art. 

They sat in silence for a few moments when the angel drew in a sharp breath, his hand fluttering to his heart.

“What’s wrong?” Crowley asked.

"Nothing, really. It's just..." Aziraphale shut his eyes. “There it is again! I can feel it.”

“Heartburn?” suggested Crowley. “I did warn you about having all that wine with the marinara sauce at lunch-”

“Not heartburn,” Aziraphale hissed, marginally irritated by Crowley’s comment. “It’s love. Definitely love! I can feel it surrounding me.”

Crowley swallowed and his grip on the steering wheel tightened reflexively. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Aziraphale's eyes flew open and he grinned. “Of course! It must be Adam! The closer we get to Tadfield, the stronger the sensation of love. He must love this place dearly.”

“Don’t know why,” Crowley grumbled. “There’s literally nothing here but hills and trees.”

“It’s his home,” Aziraphale explained. “I suppose he loves it... just as I love, erm, my bookshop... or how you love… the Bentley.”

“I don't love the Bentley, angel. ”

"Liar."

Crowley just grinned. 

* * *

When they arrived at Jasmine Cottage a few minutes later, a very enthusiastic Anathema Device greeted the pair at the door.

“Welcome!” she said as she took their coats. “I’m so glad you two made it!”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world, my dear,” said Aziraphale, his eyes twinkling brightly. Crowley did his best grumpy demon impression.

“Newt’s the chef for tonight,” Anathema continued, guiding the angel and demon past the doorway to the kitchen. Newt, wearing a bright red apron glanced over his shoulder and waved at them with a wooden spoon. “He’s trying his hand at a new chicken dish tonight,” supplied Anathema.

“Lovely!” replied Aziraphale.

 _Lovely_ , Crowley mouthed mockingly behind their backs.

“Can I get you two anything to drink? Some wine perhaps?”

“That would be splendid, my dear."

After pouring them each a glass of red, Anathema led them into the cottage’s cozy living room. She offered Crowley and Aziraphale the two-seater sofa and sat across from them in a vintage rocking chair. The angel and demon took a seat next to one another in their usual fashion; Aziraphale on the right with Crowley on his left, only the size of the couch meant that they were nearly squashed up against one another. 

“Thank you again for inviting us, dear,” Aziraphale said, sipping at his wine. 

“Of course! Newt and I stopped by the bookshop to visit you enough times, so I thought it might be nice to have you two out in the country again!”

Aziraphale smiled kindly. “It’s always pleasant to get out of the city for a while, isn't it Crowley?”

“No,” said Crowley.

Anathema didn’t pay him any mind. She was grinning like someone who had been holding onto a secret for too long and couldn't do it any longer. “Sooo?" she gushed. "What’s new with you two?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Aziraphale said. “It’s been business as usual at the bookshop. Lots of customers stopping by, although I’ve cut my Saturday hours down by half. I thought it would make a difference, but it appears to have backfired.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, customers are coming in like moths to a flame now. Can’t get rid of them it seems.”

Anathema nodded empathetically. “That sounds dreadful.”

“Oh, it is," the angel replied. "I even had to sell one of my best copies of Ulysses last weekend. I’m still rather put out over it, truth be told.”

“Huh. And what about you, Crowley?”

Crowley looked up. “Hmm? Oh. Nothing. Same old, same old.”

“Really?” Anathema grinned expectantly at the demon. “Are you _sure_ there's nothing new going on in your life?”

Crowley thought on this for a moment. “Actually, yeah. Bought a new plant the other day. It’s a Philodendron. Loves shade. Had to get something to replace the Red Aglaonema as it still wasn’t doing well.”

“Didn’t you say you were going to try the liquid foliage fertilizer on that one?” Aziraphale piped up.

“I did, yeah. And I replaced the soil three times as well. Tried moving it to another location even and it was still struggling. Sometimes miracles can only get you so far and then you’re bloody-well on your own.”

"Isn't that the truth."

"Guys-" Anathema interrupted, tapping her foot impatiently against the leg of her chair. “Books, plants, come on. You know that’s not what I meant.”

Aziraphale blinked and glanced briefly at Crowley, who was sitting as far apart from him as the small sofa would allow.

The demon remained stoic behind the rims of his dark glasses. "I don't know what you mean," he said.

Anathema groaned in frustration. "Nothing _life-changing_ has happened at all with you two since we last saw one another?”

“No, nothing I can think of, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale repeated. His body language spoke to the contrary, however. His free hand was fidgeting nervously on the arm rest and a soft blush was beginning to creep across his cheekbones.

Anathema focused her gaze on Crowley expectantly for a few seconds, then glanced over at a very flustered Aziraphale, and again back at Crowley. Clearly, she wasn’t willing to let this go.

After a tense moment, the demon groaned, looking like he would rather be stung by a thousand bees rather than continue this conversation. “Right, fine," he admitted. "You’re right. Something’s changed.”

Anathema squealed excitedly. 

Newt walked into the room at that exact moment with a beer in hand. “Dinner is in the oven!” he said cheerily. His smile faded as he realized everyone in the room was staring him. “What’s going on?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat, then reached for Crowley’s hand. "Crowley and I have decided to, er... oh, dear… how shall I put this?”

“We’re fucking,” Crowley said flatly.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished, the colour in his cheeks progressing from a shade of pink to a deep red.

"Well it's true."

“What he means to say is that we’ve decided to pursue a new level in our relationship.”

Anathema’s smile widened even further, and she clasped her hands together. “Oh, I knew it! I knew it! I could just tell!” She grinned salaciously at Newt, who had turned rather pale. He shook his head nearly imperceptibly in a silent bid to get her to drop the subject, but she ignored him, leaping up from her chair to retrieve a bottle of champagne from the cupboard.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, dear,” Aziraphale said politely.

“I disagree!” Anathema exclaimed excitedly as she popped the cork. “This is wonderful news and we should celebrate!”

“Yes, well, it has taken us some time to arrive at this place in our relationship, but we really are thrilled with this most recent development!” Aziraphale gushed. “Aren’t we, Crowley?”

Crowley crossed his arms and turned away to glower at a painting of three kittens playing with an upturned wicker basket. 

Anathema was positively glowing with pride, just like a proud parent. “I’m so incredibly happy for you both!”

“Thank you, my dear,” replied Aziraphale.

“Yes,” agreed Crowley. “Thank _somebody_.”

“A toast!” she announced, as she distributed flutes of champagne amongst the group, shoving the final glass into Crowley’s reluctant hand. “To Aziraphale and Crowley in love!”

"Oh, we're not... in love," Aziraphale corrected, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Anathema froze. "Wait, what?"

"We're...em... what is that term? 'Friends with Benefits'."

Newt slumped into a chair, white as a ghost. Anathema swallowed anxiously. 

"Are you alright, dear girl? You look a bit pale."

"Well... that's not exactly what I was expecting you to say, but as long as you two are happy...?"

Crowley was still scowling. “M’ happy, alright? I just don’t need a bloody champagne toast to celebrate the fact I finally snogged an angel.”

Aziraphale laughed sharply. “You most certainly did not snog an angel, Crowley. As I recall, it was _I_ who initiated the kiss.”

“You’re wrong. We were stuck in traffic on the M25 and you were going on and on about how we were going to be late for the show, and yet you refused to let me use a miracle to get us out of there, so I kissed you to get you to shut up. I’m not sure why it never occurred to me to try that before, because it worked!”

“That’s not how it happened, Crowley.”

“That’s exactly how it happened, angel!”

Anathema was perched on the edge of her seat, staring open-mouthed as the chaos enfolded in front of her. Newt, meanwhile, had finished chugging his entire glass of champagne and was now cradling his beer as though his life depended on it.

“Well, there’s no need to dwell on which one of us is right and which one of us is so clearly wrong,” said Aziraphale, glaring at Crowley. “In any case, we’re being quite rude. I’m sure poor Anathema and Newt do not want to hear about how this whole tale unfolded.”

“No, no, no, I would love to hear all about it!” Anathema replied, her eyes wide. “Please, start from the beginning.”

Aziraphale shifted awkwardly on the couch, his eyes flitting over to Crowley, who made a noise of indifference.

“Alright, if you insist. It all started one morning last week, when I telephoned Crowley and asked him if he’d like to see a play with me. It took some convincing, although not much, and Crowley said he would pick me up at five so we could have dinner first.”

“It was at six, angel. Dinner was supposed to be at six.”

“Well, you told me five.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Right. So anyway, Crowley arrived late, as usual.”

“Not late. That’s when you told me to get there.”

“So, we skipped dinner because now we were in a rush to get to the show, and of course we ended up trapped in rush hour traffic on the M25. Wall to wall traffic, no one was moving.”

“At least it wasn’t on fire,” Crowley muttered.

“In any case,” continued Aziraphale, pointedly ignoring Crowley, “we had been sitting in traffic for quite some time when he suggested we use a minor miracle to get out of there.”

“Which _somebody_ refused to agree upon.”

Aziraphale snorted. “Yes, well, I’m sorry, but still worry about using too many frivolous miracles as not to draw any unwanted attention. Anyhow, Crowley was complaining about how much he hated traffic and how boring it was just sitting there… so I suggested that perhaps we might come up with something fun to do to entertain us while we waited.”

Anathema was leaning so far forward that the slightest breeze could have sent her toppling to the floor. “Go on…” she whispered, enraptured.

Aziraphale took another sip of his wine. “So then I suggested we try one of those games where one of us decides on a famous person and the other has to guess who it is by posing yes or no questions.”

Crowley snorted. “And when it was your turn, instead of a celebrity, you picked me.” 

“I wanted to see how long it would take you to guess yourself,” Aziraphale said, fiddling absentmindedly with his bow tie. “But then, of all things, Crowley asked me if the person I had chosen was ‘sexy.’”

“Just having a bit of fun, angel.”

So, I said yes… and he guessed Tom Hiddleston.”

The demon shrugged. “I thought you liked him.”

“I do, but that’s neither here nor there,” Aziraphale replied. “Anyway, Crowley eventually clued in that I was talking about him, at which point I was longer paying attention to the game, because when Crowley is surprised, his lips do this thing-”

“What thing?”

Aziraphale blushed. “They go all _pouty_ … it’s quite adorable, really.”

“Adorable?” Crowley roared. “I’m a demon. I’m not adorable. Ever!”

“I was overcome by a sudden urge… it really came out of nowhere; I have no idea what got into me… but I kissed him.”

“I kissed you,” Crowley argued. “I remember because I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Either way, we kissed each other. And for quite some time, I might add...”

“Yup.”

“I was pleasantly surprised because I…” Aziraphale’s voice broke suddenly as he was overcome with emotion. “I had always assumed, incorrectly, that he wasn’t interested in me that way.”

“Which is absurd, because…” Crowley’s cheeks flushed hotly. “I have loved you every minute of every day since we first met.”

“You have?” Aziraphale swallowed, his lower lip trembling. “I thought that this was just... well.... fucking?”

“This isn’t just about lust, angel,” Crowley growled. “I didn’t know how to tell you, and, you know, I assumed you could never love me in return because I was a demon, so I just pushed it all down inside and tried not to think about it.”

Aziraphale locked eyes with Crowley. “Then it seems we have both made assumptions that kept us apart for so awfully long because I love you, dearest. More than you could possibly ever know.”

Crowley, no longer concerned about who was watching, snaked one arm around Aziraphale’s waist and nestled up next to him and kissed him on the forehead. "Angel-"

“Darling. Now that everything's out in the open, I have every intention of showing you just how much I love you...”

They stared at one another for a long moment.

“Oh, my goodness!” Anathema cried, ecstatic. "I knew you two were in love and to see you finally admit it to one another... Isn’t this fantastic, Newt?”

Newt, who had evidently zoned out at some point during the conversation, was unexpectedly nudged in the ribs by Anathema. He sat up straight and smiled awkwardly. “Right. So how was the play?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What?”

“The play? You said you were on the way to the theatre?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s cheeks turning hot pink all over again. He glanced sheepishly at Crowley. “It was, um…uh…well-”

“It was explosive,” replied Crowley, without taking his eyes off Aziraphale.

“Very much so,” agreed Aziraphale, his eyes locked on Crowley’s mouth. Crowley’s hand was now resting on Aziraphale’s thigh and the angel was staring back at him hungrily, as though no one else was in the room. Just as Aziraphale looked like he was about to pounce on Crowley, a timer went off. 

“My chicken cacciatore is ready,” Newt stood up abruptly, utterly relieved to be saved by the bell. “Who’s hungry?”

There was an awkward pause.

“Actually… I’m suddenly feeling unwell,” Aziraphale said, without taking his eyes off Crowley. “Would you mind terribly we left early?”

Anathema arched a suspicious eyebrow. “Oh no, are you sure?”

“Quite sure, I’m afraid.” The angel stood and began to lead Crowley away by the wrist.

Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “What happened to your little speech about being rude?” he whispered.

Aziraphale flashed the demon a pointed look and the message seemed to sink in.

“Heartburn,” Crowley explained loudly, allowing Aziraphale to drag him away. “It’s been plaguing him all week.”

“But-” Newt rushed after them, with Anathema in tow. 

“Sorry, dear boy," mumbled Aziraphale, his voice pitched slightly higher than normal. "Another time perhaps?”

Crowley snapped his fingers to retrieve their coats and saluted Anathema and Newt as he and Aziraphale rushed out the door and into the Bentley. They were gone in an instant.

“Feel better soon...” Newt called after them. 

* * *

A few hours later, and Anathema and Newt were getting ready for bed. Anathema stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a lacy black negligee.

“I thought tonight went pretty well, didn’t you?”

“How do you figure?” replied Newt. “Aziraphale fell ill. They didn’t even get to try my chicken cacciatore!”

“Not that!” snapped Anathema. “I meant my plan! And you know angels can’t get sick, right?”

Newt blinked at her. “Then why did they leave?”

Anathema made a circle with her thumb and finger and slotted her other index finger through it with a grin.

Newt looked horrified. He crossed his arms. “I can’t believe you.”

Anathema shrugged. “Hey, I had nothing to do with that part. That was all them.”

“But you still used a spell. You can't play God with the universe like that.”

“Oh, come on, Newt. The love they felt for one another was real and they were going to get together eventually."

Anathema opened a heavy wooden chest at the foot of the bed and withdrew two hastily sewn dolls which bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain demon and angel. She giggled as she squished the dolls together into a mock kiss before placing them back inside the chest. "All I did was expedite the process a little!”

Newt shook his head in disbelief, then he broke out into a grin. “You’re crazy, you know that, right?”

“Yes, but I’m your crazy,” Anathema laughed, and tackled him into bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope waterofthemoon enjoyed my crazy scribblings because this was for her!
> 
> [redundant-angel on tumblr](https://redundant-angel.tumblr.com/)


End file.
